Pretend
by Melody Brandybuck
Summary: Spike meets someone from his past, and discovers feelings he thought were gone forever.


Disclaimer:  Not mine.  I own nothing except a good imagination and an apple.

Setting:  Sometime in season seven.

Feedback:  I'm a starving artist who lives on reviews.  Donations are greatly appreciated.

Author's Note:  If you're a rabid Spuffy fan, go away now.  You have been warned.

Author's Note #2:  This is a melancholy, rather wordy bit of angst that just popped into my head one night.  Yes, I'm an S/D fan.  

Author's Note #3:  D is not Dawn.  Ew, that's just gross.  He's like her brother.  Incest is wrong.

Pretend

            He had always traveled in his car.  She took the train.  She used to like it because of all the people there, just waiting for her like a tasty buffet.  But this time was different.  This time she sat alone on the seat, quietly staring at the ceiling.  She could see the stars, could hear them whispering to her.  They had told her she should come, that she shouldn't eat on the train.  She should come quietly.  It was a new concept, and one that interested her enough to try it.  So she traveled, listening to the whispered songs of the moon and stars telling her what had become of him.  She traveled, going against all her instincts.  For him.

*          *          *

            The apartment was quiet in the dark predawn.  Xander's snores could be heard from the bedroom.  In the living room Spike paced, restless.  He felt like he should be doing something, not sleeping in a closet.  A cat meowed outside, and he jumped.  This was ridiculous.  He needed to get out.  A quick glance at the clock showed that he had over an hour before sunrise, enough time for a walk.  He silently left the apartment and let his feet carry him through Sunnydale.

            Considering the number of cemeteries in Sunnydale, perhaps it wasn't too strange that he found himself winding his way through tombstones.  With a certain morbid fascination, he glanced at each one, wondering if he had killed any of them.  Before.  He was aimlessly wandering, not really thinking, when he thought he caught a familiar scent.  He paused and sniffed the air, but there was nothing.  He turned away and kept going.  It must have been his imagination, which admittedly hadn't been exactly sane of late.  Then he stopped again.  There it was again, and stronger this time.  He was sure he wasn't imagining it.  Then she stepped from the shadows.

            "Hello, Spike."  She looked exactly the same as the last time he had seen her.  He could only stare, finally managing to find his voice.

            "Dru?  Wh…what are you doing here?"

            "Looking for you, my Spike," she answered.  "The moon tells me so many things…so many strange and important things.  Oh, my William…" she moved up in front of him, "so lost…"  Her finger brushed his cheek.

            He shook his head and stepped back.  "Dru… I… I'm not going to kill people anymore," he finished lamely.  His mind seemed to be frozen.

            "Oh, yes," she breathed.  "The moon told me, she did.  My William was lost for so long… Who are you, Spike?"

            "That's what I'm trying to figure out," he said quietly.

            "They shouted at me.  Shouted until I came here, and wouldn't let me eat anyone.  I had to see…" she gently touched his chest and looked at him with her dark eyes.  He could only stare back.

            "I'm sorry…"  It seemed to be the only thing he could say.

            "No, you're not.  You left me a long time ago."  She seemed distressed, and cocked her head as she looked at him.  "The fish are silent," she said at last.  "The prince of darkness shines with light…but not bad.  Not like Daddy."

            "Glad to hear it," he muttered.  A century of traveling with her helped him figure out what she was talking about.  Most of the time, that is.

            "Oh, Spike…why?"  There were tears in her eyes.  "You were such a beautiful prince… why did you leave me?  All alone in the dark…" her voice trailed off.

            "Hey, what about your precious chaos demon?  And since when did _I _leave…"  He stopped and looked at her, seeing the truth of what she said.  He hadn't left her physically.  He had left her, as she said, alone in her darkness.  Her own evil.  He had never been as dark as her, and now he had turned away completely.

            "I had to," he said finally.  "I'm sorry, Dru.  I was never as evil as you.  I couldn't do it."  He turned away.  "You should have chosen someone else to be your prince."

            "No," she said, surprising him.  "Who else would have loved me like you did?  Oh, Spike, come back to me.  I can see you…see it in your head, poisoning your heart, spreading bits of light through you.  You don't have to…"  She moved closer to him.

            "Yes I do," he said, almost involuntarily.  "I had to.  Had to get a soul – for – for her."

            "No," she said again.  "She is your poison.  She makes you think you see what you don't.  Look in your heart, Spike.  Tell me you love me."

            "I – can't –" he hesitated.  "The sun's coming up."

            "And you must hide from the radiance," she looked at him inquisitively, and it was almost like the last four years were all a dream.  Except—

            "In here."  He took her hand and led her into a dark crypt.  She didn't release his hand.

            "Tell me you don't love me.  Say you love her.  Say it to me, Spike," she insisted.

            "I –" he looked at her again.  A century of love, of passion… of darkness.  He turned away.  He had rejected that darkness, hadn't he?  Turned to love the Slayer…the force of good.  Hadn't he gotten a soul for her?  So he could be good, and she could love him?  Yes, he had.

            Except that was wrong.  He had gotten the soul because he was ashamed of himself.  Because he couldn't stand the monster he had become when he … did _that_ to her.  He hadn't gotten a soul for her.  He had gotten it for him.  And the dark princess standing in front of him demanded the truth.  But he didn't love her anymore.  He loved Buffy.  And yet… when he looked at Drusilla, it was as if those years of being half-man, half-demon had never happened.  She was there, as she had always been.  She was his world, and nothing else was real.

            "I love you," he said, and knew it was the truth.  "You know that."

            Her eyes shone with excitement and passion.  "Then come with me.  Come away, Spike, and be with me."

            "No."  It was so hard to deny the eagerness in her eyes, to turn away from the yearning in his heart.  "I can't, Dru."  He put his hands on her shoulders.  "I can't be bad.  You know that." 

            "But Spike –" she protested, childlike.  "If you love me, you should be with me.  Come back to me, Spike."  He turned away.  "But he's lost, isn't he?"  She put her cold fingers under his chin and forced him to look at her.  "My prince of darkness was only a dream, and now he's woken up.  Now there's only my Spike.  My William."

            "Yours," he echoed hollowly.  How could he feel this way?  He hadn't seen her in so long, and now that she was back it was as if all the love, all the passion he had once felt had reawakened.  How could it be?  And yet it felt right.  Like this was the way he should feel.  Right… and impossible.  "I can't, Dru," he whispered.  She was insane – completely out of her gourd – but he could tell she understood.  Could see it in the pain in her eyes.  What's more, he could tell she understood better than he did.

            "Oh, Spike…" she embraced him, and he could feel tears on her cheek.

            He swallowed and forced himself to break away.  "You should go," he said with difficulty.

            "Oh, Spike," she said again.  "Spike…couldn't we pretend…just for today?"  Her dark eyes were full of pleading, full of love and pain that were amazing in a vampire.  He looked at her, and could no more refuse than drive a stake through her heart.  He closed his eyes and leaned over to touch her lips with his own.

            They were awake at sunset.  They had both been awake for hours, pretending not to notice that the other one was not sleeping.  Waking up meant the end of the fantasy.  Waking up meant goodbye.  But they could no longer deny the sunset.  It sang through their blood, calling the children of the night.  He gently lifted her head from his chest and sat up, blue eyes meeting black for an instant.  

            "Sunset," he said.

            "Yes," she replied.

            They dressed in silence.  What could they say to each other?  And no matter how long they took, no matter how slowly they walked, eventually they stood together at the door of the crypt.  Neither one was quite willing to step beyond the stone door.  She turned to look at him one last time.

            "I have to stay awake now," she said, as if trying to convince herself.

            "No more dreaming," he agreed.  "I can't be evil.  You can't be good.  We can't— "

            She pressed her finger to his lips.  "Someday," she said.  "Someday, we will forget what they tell us.  We will laugh at the stars until they drown in our laughter.  Together, we will ignore impossible.  Someday…"

            "I'll be waiting," he said quietly.  

            "Always," she answered, and whirled away from him, fading into the darkness of the misty graveyard.  He stared after her a moment, then turned and walked in the opposite direction, towards the lights of the town.  They had pretended for one day, and now they both went separate directions.  He to the lights, she to her darkness.  Both alone.  But he could still feel her, feel her there with him, waiting with him to redefine impossibility.  Waiting for someday, armed only with their time of pretend that was a little more than a dream, a little less than a memory.  There was nothing hard and clear-cut about it, except the line they were on opposite sides of.  The only thing that connected them was love.  The only thing that separated them was reality.  

            They would live forever.  Someday had to come eventually.  But now…now they would remain on separate sides of the world, empty, a piece of their hearts stolen away.  They would never be complete without each other, and yet they were enemies.  He felt the loneliness swelling up, taking over his whole body until he could hardly remember what it was like to be happy.  But he would go on – he would smile and live his unlife.  He would fight hard and kill demons.  He would be friends with the Slayer and her friends.  He would cover the loneliness, plaster over the hole in his heart, because the world didn't care.  Only they did.  Only him and her, remembering the dream.  He walked through the streets of Sunnydale, discreetly wiping tears from his cheeks.

*          *          *

            As Spike closed the door of the apartment, Xander jumped up from the couch where he had been sitting.  "Where were you?" he exclaimed.  "You were gone all day!  I mean…not that I was worried."

            "Out," Spike said.  He headed towards his closet.  "I'm going to sleep."


End file.
